


no grave can hold my body down

by MediaWhore



Series: animals howling in the night [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e08 A Day in the Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Like... obviously, Major character death - Freeform, Missing Scene, Owen Harper Centric, Post-Episode: s02e08 A Day in the Death, Season/Series 02, Undead Owen Harper, i guess i write tosh/owen ficlets now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: Most days, being dead feels like the end of the world. Doctor Owen Harper should know.Missing scene from somewhere in S2
Relationships: Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Series: animals howling in the night [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689415
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	no grave can hold my body down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivegotfireforaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotfireforaheart/gifts).



The world is ending. Well, Owen thinks bitterly, in their line of work, the world is always ending, but it truly feels like it now.

It’s felt like it ever since Owen got shot, plunging into the darkness decades early, _fastfastfast_ , blinking and gasping one second, immobile, dead, the next. It made sense really, Owen thought in his last moments, scared and alone – and no matter who is there to hold your hand, in the end, it’s always just you and Death, if there’s one thing Dr Owen Harper knows, it’s that. He was never meant for a long comfortable life. 

It’s felt like it ever since he got trapped into the neverending weight of _nothing_ that comes after death, and even more so ever since he was dragged from it, breaking through the surface without a gasp, given a lifeless lifeline, an empty second chance he never asked for but always wanted. 

Surely the world should be on fire right now? Every stupid cunts he’s ever put his life in danger for should be in the streets _screaming_ in fear of a new alien invasion. There should be torrential rains and tornadoes, the whole bloody world gone to _shit_ because there’s no way in hell he should be the only one feeling this. The world should be fucking ending right now. 

But it’s not. 

Owen ended and the world carried on and every second of every day, his heart doesn’t beat and he’s reminded that he’s nothing but a ghost, finite in all the ways that matter except one, dragging his stupid animated corpse around. Owen never would have thought of his heartbeat as reassuring, but he misses it now, misses the comforting thud of it deep in his chest, misses the days he didn’t ring this hollow. 

It’s funny really, Owen never used to be afraid of dying. He’d seen too much of it as a doctor to truly fear the process, even before joining Torchwood. Besides, he was too busy enjoying every single excess this life had to offer to fear the end of it.

Turns out all it took was for him to find out what lies beyond the veil to be filled with nothing but terror. Anger and terror in the pit of his stomach, gnarling at everything he is, eating him alive, transforming him into nothing but a shadow of himself. A ghost. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Tosh whispers to him, late at night in his flat, keeping him company because she loves him, or doesn’t trust him not to do something stupid, or both, and Owen hates her a little. Because she means it, she really does, and she’s so earnest, so fierce, that she thinks she can make it so just by saying it. 

They’re lying on his bed on top of the covers, side by side, a chasm between them and he wants it to be true so badly. So he closes his eyes, swallowing back down the sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue. The last thing he wants to do is hurt her. Again. 

She reaches for his hand across the bed. Timid at first, hesitant when her fingers slide down his palm. He knows his hand must be cold, unnatural, but she doesn’t flinch. 

Thank fuck, Tosh doesn’t flinch. 

“Owen,” she whispers, tangling their fingers together when he opens his eyes and tilts his head to look at her. 

He’s left a lamp on though it’s past too late, even for them who keep unconventional hours, and she looks soft in the golden light of it, her dark eyes a beacon. 

“Tosh, I –” Owen begins, but she shakes her head and he falls silent. _Hollow_ , Death whispers in the back of his mind, _they can’t see it yet but you can_. 

He’s always been a fraud. He’s never deserved this. But when she leans forward to kiss him, lips soft and careful on his, Owen closes his eyes and pretends that he does. Owen closes his eyes and lets himself have this. 

Just for now, just this once. After all, the world is ending. 


End file.
